Bobby Plus Three
by Muffy the Dough Slayer
Summary: What if Bobby knew Mary before she was a Winchester, and even hunted with her? What if Adam was actually the middle brother of Sam and Dean? When John and Mary are killed in a fire, it's up to Bobby to raise the three boys, but fate has other plans. HOLD.
1. Prologue

Is anyone confused? Yes, I know that I had parts of this story posted previously, but I read over what I had written before (and had not posted) and I actually liked it, and so I have decided to incorporate it into this as well. What I had posted, which was Shades of Gray, will be in here later on. Right now, I am going to follow my old format for this since I think I have a somewhat better understanding of the characters now. Please bear with me! Thank you so much, and I do hope you enjoy this story. This was my first attempt at a fanfic, so please don't be too harsh! I just loved the thought of Bobby as a father, especially with how he is with Dean and Sam, and I didn't want poor Adam to be left out.

So Adam has become the middle child! Don't let that confuse you, 'kay? 'Kay. Thanks!

And now...the new prologue ;)

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**Summary:** What if Bobby knew Mary before she and John got together, and even hunted with her? What if Adam wasn't a half-brother of Sam and Dean, but a full-brother and actually the middle child of the family? When John and Mary are killed in a massive fire in their home, Bobby takes in the surviving boys-and turns them into Sam, Dean, and Adam Singer, his three boys, and raises them in his home in South Dakota. When Dean is told he's not completely human, no one is more shocked than him and his family-and they decide to keep it from Bobby for fear of what he might do. Now, follow along as the brothers try to figure it out without letting things slip away from them. (Sorry, bad summary, I know lol)

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**BOBBY PLUS THREE (BPT) 'VERSE**

**Number 1**

_Bobby Plus Three_

By: Muffy the Dough Slayer

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**Bobby Plus Three**

_Prologue_

_Ages: Dean 5, Adam 3, Sam 1 (toward end of prologue)_

Bobby Singer knew Mary Winchester fairly well, really. They had been friends for years, even since before she was married. They hunted together at times but only when John was away because Mary did not want him to know anything about the supernatural nightmares that awaited many people. Then she had her first son, Dean Michael Winchester, and stopped hunting completely. She was fully trained on her son, looking at him as though he were the only thing in the world, and she was happy with her family life with John and Dean. Bobby could respect that, even if he did miss hanging out with his friend, even if it was just for a hunt. He wanted her to be happy, though, and safe with a family, seeing as how he couldn't have one of his own.

His wife had been killed, after all. A demon had possessed her and he'd had to kill her. That was before he knew anything about demons, though-he'd just thought she'd lost her mind or something and had snapped. What else was one supposed to think when their wife came at them so violently, threatening to end their life? Now he knew better, though, and he wished he could back and save her. Maybe then he could have had a life to live as well-one that included children and a family, a true, happy family.

He really did want one but maybe it wasn't meant to be. That just wasn't his life. He was a hunter, after all. And hunters didn't have families.

So maybe that was why it didn't come as such a shock to learn that Mary Winchester was killed. It did come as a shock, though, when he learned that it was a fire in her house. He feared for the lives of her children-three of them now. Dean, Adam, and Sam, all two years apart in age, Sam only six months old. He rushed to Lawrence, Kansas as quickly as he could and found out that Mary and John had been killed in the blaze but Dean had managed to get his little brothers out in time.

It surprised him to learn that Mary had a Will, and in it, she had left her children in Bobby's care, claiming him as their unofficial 'uncle'. Shocked at this idea, Bobby was left in charge of three young boys. How the hell was he supposed to raise a family when he was having trouble even looking out for himself? What had Mary been thinking when she'd left him in charge of her beloved little boys? Bobby had no idea but he knew he could not let his friend down, and so he took in the lonesome children.

And he took them home, to his junkyard in South Dakota.

* * *

_Six months later…_

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face as he struggled to give little Sam a bath. How Dean managed to make this task seem so simple, he would never know, because Sam kept splashing around and tugging at his light beard, talking practically gibberish. He could only say a few words, after all, and they mostly consisted of 'up', 'down', and 'juice'.

"Would you hold still, you idjit?" Bobby grumbled as he struggled to contain the thrashing boy. He felt a presence behind him and looked back, releasing a relieved breath. "Thank God. Dean, control your brother, he listens to you."

Five-year-old Dean cocked his head to the side, frowning at him, before he moved forward and took Bobby's place next to the bathtub. Sam instantly calmed, looking at him, and allowed himself to be washed thoroughly. Dean did so while humming lightly, causing Sam to give into a small yawn, and Bobby watched them in wonder.

"How do you do that?" he asked, because he needed to learn how to do it for in the future.

Dean said nothing and rinsed off his little brother. Bobby sighed and left the room, leaving Dean to it because he could probably handle the situation better himself anyway.

Three-year-old Adam appeared in the hallway, sucking on his thumb as he looked up at Bobby. Bobby smiled down at the middle child. "How's it going, kiddo?" he asked as he ruffled the child's hair, moving past him toward the kitchen. Adam followed after him on chubby legs. "Hungry?"

Adam nodded with a grin and Bobby sighed, shaking his head. The kid was always hungry-one could definitely tell he was related to Dean. They both ate like a damn horse and Bobby wondered where they put it all.

Sighing, he turned to put on some soup for Adam to eat. Dean appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, looking completely dry while Bobby still felt soaked. He scowled to himself and watched as Dean carried Sam to the table. Sam was dressed in night clothes and looked tired, so Bobby figured they could eat and go to bed.

Soon the soup was finished and the three boys were seated at the table-Sam in his high chair, Adam in his booster seat, and Dean in a regular chair, leaving a chair area for Bobby as well. Bobby took them their food and then got a bowl for himself, and they all sat down to eat. Dean poked at his food a little before he started eating, and Bobby quirked a brow at him. The five-year-old ignored him, though, and he so he turned his attention toward Adam, who was happily eating his soup quickly.

Sam played in his and Bobby figured another bath would be in order in the morning. Hopefully Dean would be there to help because Bobby would rather not become soaked so thoroughly next time-he was not the one taking the bath, after all.

Dean had not spoken once since the fire that had killed his parents. Bobby wished the boy would at least _try_ and talk to him, but no dice. Dean spoke only in whispers to Sam and sometimes to Adam, who was usually too hyperactive to sit still for long and listen. It wasn't good for a five-year-old to go without talking but Bobby didn't want to try and force Dean into anything. He would talk when he was ready and Bobby would be waiting, ready to listen when the time came.

Bobby knew Dean remembered the fire and remembered his father's last words, whatever they were. But he'd managed to get his little brothers out of the house and keep them away from the flames. Adam probably didn't remember much about the fire. He didn't seem to, anyway, and he'd only been two at the time. Sam, obviously, remembered absolutely nothing, and Dean was very overprotective of his little brothers. He rarely strayed far away from them and never really left them alone with Bobby for too long. Bobby wished he could somehow take that responsibility away from the eldest brother but he wasn't sure how. Maybe all Dean needed was time.

Time to adjust.

Time to forget.

Time to move on.

Sighing, he glanced at Dean. "I think it's time for bed, don't you? You get Sam - I'll get Adam. Okay?"

Dean only nodded and moved to retrieve Sam from his highchair. Sam was already practically half asleep as Dean carried him toward the stairs and started up them. Bobby followed behind him, carrying Adam, who was also half-asleep, sucking on his thumb, his bright eyes barely parted.

Bobby had two spare rooms for the boys to stay in, but they all seemed to want to room together. Sam cried if he was alone for too long, and Adam grew overly restless and wound up wrecking the place if left to his own devices. Dean kept them calm and in check and seemed to prefer it himself, and so Bobby pulled in an extra bed one day and let Adam and Dean sleep together while Sam got a crib next to the bed. That seemed to work out pretty well.

Dean put Sam in his crib and leaned over to kiss his little brother's forehead before he turned and crawled into bed. Bobby placed Adam in the bed as well and Dean pulled his little brother toward him, covering the both of them up. Bobby watched them for a moment before he sighed. "Need anything?" he asked, wanting to ruffle Dean's scruffy blonde hair simply because the kid barely allowed anyone to touch him in the slightest.

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, signaling that it was time for bed and that Bobby needed to leave. Bobby sighed, getting the hint, and turned to walk away when he heard a soft, tired, quiet voice whisper, "Night, Daddy."

He turned and found Adam watching him with droopy eyes, and he couldn't help the lump that formed in his throat at those words.

Daddy. He had never been called that and had figured he never would. He wasn't a family man, after all, and yet here he was…with three young boys…

"Night, kiddo," Bobby whispered back in return, watching as Adam smiled and closed his eyes, almost instantly drifting off to sleep. He shifted his gaze to Dean and found him smiling slowly as well, his eyes still closed.

Maybe things would be okay after all. Maybe Bobby wasn't so bad at this 'father' thing as he thought he'd be.

Maybe he was a family guy after all…and maybe he could be what these three boys needed.

A real father.

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So...good, bad? Do you like the new prologue or would you have rather stuck with the old one? Let me know how it sounds, please! Thanks! I'm hoping to get back into the mood for this story, lol.

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


	2. Silence That Lasts

Sorry this chapter is so short ;) They will get longer. I just didn't want to skip so many years as I did the first time around. I had originally had a story for every year they were with Bobby, up until Dean was eighteen, but that idea fizzled...so I wound up skipping a few years down the road, lol ;) Thanks for reading, and please review!

Onward!

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**Bobby Plus Three**

_The Silence That Lasts_

_Ages: Dean 6, Adam 4, Sam 2_

Dean's Kindergarten teacher was worried about him. Bobby had gotten the phone call earlier that evening and it kept playing over and over in the back of Bobby's mind, like a record stuck on repeat, and he wished it would stop. He couldn't _make_ Dean talk, could he? That would have been wrong. The kid just needed some time, that was all. He wouldn't stay silent forever-he couldn't. Right?

She'd said that he wasn't active in class. He listened and did his work but he didn't participate in any discussions or other activities that involved talking, and he never spoke in class but he hummed occasionally. She knew his voice worked but she didn't know why he wasn't talking. Bobby had assured her that he would talk to Dean about it but really, what could he say?

If Dean wanted to be quiet, who was Bobby to stop him? It actually kind of evened out Sam's gibberish jabber and Adam's hyper, enthusiastic talking. Bobby wasn't going to try and make him talk. He would when he was ready…right? He just needed a little time.

But it had been two years already…and Dean still hadn't talked. Wasn't that enough time? Was he only hurting Dean by not making him talk? He wasn't so sure and he didn't really know what to do about it. What if he never talked again, except to his brothers? How would he form any friendships or relationships then?

Sighing, Bobby went upstairs to the boys' room and knocked lightly before entering. Dean was laying on his back on the bed, listening as Sam and Adam wrestled on the ground. Sam seemed to be having a blast and Adam was winning. Bobby shook his head at them. "Cut it out," he said, and they stopped immediately, glancing at him. Dean opened his eyes and glanced over at him. "Adam, could you take Sam downstairs, please? I need to talk to Dean."

Adam frowned but nodded before he grabbed Sam's hand and tugged him out of the room.

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed and faced Dean. Dean sat up and frowned at him in confusion, probably wondering if he'd done something wrong, and if so, what. "Your teacher called me," Bobby started slowly.

Dean frowned even more.

"She says you're not participating in class."

Dean looked away and Bobby scrubbed at the back of his neck, wondering how exactly to continue.

"She wants you to talk. I know you don't like talking, but maybe…it would be better if you did. I mean, it's not…normal for someone your age to not talk."

Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm not…saying you _have_ to, Dean, but I just want you to think about it. Whatever reason you're not talking, maybe if you did talk about it, tell me about it, I could help or something, somehow." Bobby had no idea if he was doing this correctly or not, but he figured he was too far in to stop now, and so he continued after a short moment of awkward silence. "I know I'm not…your dad or anything, but maybe I can help, you know? I'll listen whenever you want to talk."

Dean finally glanced at him, frowning still. "It's not that I don't want to talk," he said, startling Bobby with the sound of his quiet voice. "It's that I just don't see the point."

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked, happy the kid was at least saying something.

Dean shrugged his small shoulders. "Dunno, I just…why talk? There's not really any reason to."

Bobby sighed. "I guess…sometimes there's not a reason, but it's nice if you did. It would help you communicate better and…" He shrugged. "It would help. It really would, Dean. So I'm here if…" He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. He hated these kinds of talks so why was he up here giving Dean one? He reached out slowly and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, smiling slightly when the kid allowed him to do so. Normally he pulled away or scowled or something, but this time, he didn't seem to mind. Maybe Bobby was making progress after all. He hoped so.

He stood, not sure what else to do except give Dean some time to think or something. He couldn't make the kid talk, after all. In the end, it was Dean's choice and Bobby wouldn't get angry either way. He wouldn't mind if Dean chose to stay silent-it was his decision, after all.

"Bobby?" Dean said hesitantly, causing Bobby to turn and look back at him.

"Yes?" he asked slowly.

"…Thanks," Dean murmured before he looked away.

Bobby smiled. "Any time, Dean."

Then he turned and left the room.

* * *

Dean took in a small breath before he finally managed to get himself down the stairs. Adam and Sam were sound asleep and he hoped they stayed that way until he could return. He knew Bobby would be in the living room, watching TV, and so he slowly entered there and found the grizzled man sitting on the couch comfortably. After a brief moment of hesitation, he moved forward.

"Um…Bobby?" he asked slowly, unsure of himself as he stepped toward the touch. Bobby jerked in surprise and glanced at him, frowning.

"Dean? What are you doing up?" Bobby asked. "Is everything okay?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Um…yeah, it's fine, I just…" He shrugged and moved to sit on the couch, glancing uncertainly at Bobby. "I…" He swallowed, wondering how to start. Images kept playing over and over through his mind and wished they would stop. Maybe talking would help-maybe Bobby was right. He prayed so, anyway. "The, uh…fire…"

Bobby frowned deeply, grooves forming in his face. "Yes?"

"I just…" He scrubbed a small hand over his face as he had seen Bobby do many times. "I…I was there…"

"You were…what?" Bobby asked, confused.

"The fire…in Sam's room…I followed Dad in."

"You…followed John?"

"Yes…I followed him into the room and…Mom was…" Dean shook his head, not wanting to say it because Bobby would never believe him anyway. His mother had been pinned to the ceiling of Sam's room but that wasn't possible. Dean didn't even believe himself half the time, after all. Maybe he'd just imagined it. "Dad…he pulled me out…told me to…get Adam and Sam…"

"_Get your brothers out of here as fast as you can. Now, Dean-go!" John had shouted at him, placing Sam in his arms and gesturing at Adam, who was crying down at the other end of the hall, near the stairs._

"I got them out…but I…Dad…" He closed his eyes, feeling tears prick at them as they always did when he thought of that horrible, hot, fiery night. The house had just exploded in flames after that and he'd never seen his father again. Then people had been there, surrounding him and his brothers, and then Bobby had come…and he'd been moved here. Now he was Dean Singer…and Bobby was great but…his dad…

"It wasn't your fault," Bobby said, lightly touching Dean's shoulder. Dean found that he was getting used to Bobby's small shows of affection and so he didn't immediately shake him off as he used to do. "None of that was your fault, Dean. You know that, right?"

Dean shrugged. Sure, he hadn't started the fire-but he hadn't saved his whole family. "Dad…Mom…"

He'd failed them. So badly.

"You did nothing wrong - you got Adam and Sam out, didn't you? You saved them. If you hadn't gotten them out, they would have…died too. You know that."

Dean sighed. Sure, he knew that-and he was glad he was able to save his brothers, but what about his parents? He couldn't quite understand.

Talking might have helped a little…but it made him think of that night all over again.

And that hurt.

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Sorry if it's off or something...I wrote this a while ago, lol. Thanks for reading and please review! Thanks!

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


	3. Nightmares for Real

Yeah, this is where it skips a few years...and it doesn't really explain Bobby explaining things...lol if that makes sense. Anywho, please let me know what you think! Thanks! Please review!

Onward!

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**Bobby Plus Three**

_Nightmares for Real_

_Ages: Dean 12, Adam 10, Sam 8._

Dean yawned, tired, as he sat in Bobby's car. It was early-Sam and Adam were still asleep back at Bobby's house but Bobby had asked Dean to go to the store with him so they could get some groceries. Dean had agreed to go and here they were, driving down the road at seven in the morning.

_Seven._

In the _morning_.

Bobby was crazy, Dean decided. Who in their right mind got up that early on a Saturday? On Fall Break, no less? Only Bobby, Dean figured. He held back a yawn as Bobby continued driving, leaving Dean to his thoughts of remembered sleep. He had been comfortable and in bed not even an hour ago and now he was up, awake, and cold. Damn it. He huddled in the car and breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled off the street and into a parking lot.

"Finally," he mumbled as he opened his door. Bobby sent him a look and Dean gave him a grin before the two of them left the car and entered the store in front of them. Dean followed quietly behind Bobby, yawning as he tried to stop shivering. It was freezing outside, especially this early in the morning. Snow had already taken over the ground and really, Dean could do without all this cold weather. He could do without cold and warm weather, really-just a mild temperature would be nice.

_Enough thinking about the damn weather,_ Dean thought to himself with a heavy scowl. He wound up pushing the cart as he trailed behind Bobby, who randomly threw things into the cart haphazardly. Dean wasn't completely sure the guy knew what he was doing or throwing into the cart-who would willingly pick spinach? But he said nothing of it simply because he was too cold. He should have brought a thicker jacket-as Bobby had suggested. But he hadn't wanted to, had been too tired to walk back upstairs and change jackets, and that would have meant risking the chance that he would wake either Adam or Sam, and he simply couldn't do that. Adam probably wouldn't mind but Sam was damn cranky when he was woken before the crack of noon, and Dean could certainly understand that.

Oh, if only he could be at home sleeping in like them! But no, he was stuck at the store with Bobby, who was currently eying the Skim Milk. Who in their right mind bought that? Dean had to save his family from this tragedy.

"No skim," he announced, pushing the cart forward so he could stand next to Bobby and swat the milk from the guy's calloused hands. "We need regular milk…from cows. Like normal people, Bobby." He cocked a brow at the elder guy and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"I was just checking, sheesh," Bobby grumbled as he grabbed some of the 2% milk and put it in the cart before moving forward again.

Dean rolled his eyes and suddenly knew why he had agreed to come-so he could make sure Bobby didn't get anything overly disgusting. Sometimes Bobby liked to try new things, which usually meant that Dean and Adam were his experiments. He made them eat whatever he got. Adam usually didn't mind-unless it was some kind of healthy food. The kid would eat anything. Dean, on the other hand, liked food-a lot, really. It was excellent. But there were some things he simply would _not_ try and he had to make sure Bobby knew where to draw the line. He'd like to live to reach his next birthday, thanks.

Sighing, he glanced around and frowned when he saw someone with overly dark eyes…they almost looked black but that wasn't right. Dean blinked and suddenly the guy's eyes were a dull brown, not dark black, and he figured he must have simply been mistaken. Shrugging to himself, he hurried to catch up with Bobby. The guy could move fast when he wanted to, Dean remembered with yet another sigh.

"Keep up," Bobby grumbled from an aisle ahead of him. Dean darted down the aisle, pushing the cart, and scowled.

"Well, if you didn't have freakishly long legs," he grumbled to himself as he moved forward and stopped next to Bobby. "Are we almost done?" There was a chill crawling through him and he thought it might have had something to do with that guy he'd seen-the guy whose eyes he'd thought had been black for a brief moment. He wasn't sure, though. Maybe he was just still cold.

"Almost. Be patient, boy," Bobby said with a scowl as he threw a few more items into the cart. Dean glanced at them and grinned. Macaroni-awesome. Everyone would be happy with that-it was one of Sam's favorite meals and Dean liked it as well. Adam, of course, was a bottomless pit and would scarf it down without cheese if it was necessary. Mentally shaking his head at the thought, Dean glanced again at Bobby.

Bobby was halfway down the aisle. Scrambling to catch up with him, Dean surged forward, and then felt as though someone were watching him. Spinning around, his hands momentarily leaving the cart, he looked to see that no one was there. Frowning, he figured he was just imagining things, and he shrugged and started following after Bobby again, grabbing hold of the cart once more.

Bobby grabbed a box of Lucky Charms and Dean smiled. Perfect-Lucky Charms. It was Sam's favorite breakfast and midnight snack, and he was the only one that ate any of them. Adam and Dean usually never got into his stash of Lucky Charms. It was suicide because an angry Sam meant bitch face number 3, and that meant and unhappy Bobby, which meant the whole house was going to hear about it.

And that was never fun.

Finally, Bobby headed toward the checkout line and Dean happily followed him. The items were rung up and Bobby handed over a wad of cash and then the two of them gathered up their bags and started outside and toward the car.

Dean had just helped putting the last of the groceries in the back of the car when something firm slammed into him and knocked him through the air so harshly that the breath was knocked from his lungs before he even hit the ground. Someone was growling as they pinned him there, throwing a punch to land it in his face. Wincing, he tried to kick the person off of him as he regained the air in his lungs and focused his vision.

It was the guy from in the store-and his eyes were _black_. Why? It had to be a trick of the light…or lack-thereof in the early morning light. Before he could really think, the guy was already aiming to hit him again, and he clenched his eyes tightly closed and turned his head to the side, hoping to somehow soften the blow, but the hit never really came. Instead, the weight was lifted off of him and he heard Bobby growl ferociously. Opening his eyes, he saw that Bobby had kicked the guy off of him and was now going after him, chasing him down into a dark alley even though Dean wasn't sure why.

"Bobby," he coughed as he jumped to his feet and hurried after him, wanting to help. What was Bobby thinking? This guy was clearly dangerous-they needed to call the police, right? Some crazy guy with black eyes. Somehow, Dean didn't like the sound of that. At all. He couldn't let Bobby chase him by himself, could he? He raced after Bobby and the guy and found them in an abandoned alleyway. Squinting to see through the misty fog of the early morning, Dean saw Bobby stab the guy with the knife he always kept with him, no matter what. Stunned, Dean watched as the guy grimaced and just pulled the knife from his chest as though nothing had happened.

_What the hell?_ Dean thought, stopping a few feet away to stare. Bobby growled and started saying something in some language Dean didn't know, and suddenly the guy was bent over, crying out as though in pain. Then he threw his head back and opened his mouth wide, a dark black mist escaping him. Bobby picked up his bloodied knife from the ground and turned to find Dean staring at him, eyes wide.

"Dean…" Bobby started, eyes wide as well as he watched him. Dean narrowed his eyes at him and then glanced at the bloody knife, which was slick with the sticky substance. "It's not what you think," Bobby was quick to say.

"Oh, I know that," Dean said lowly. "You want to tell me what the _hell_ is going on? What the hell was that? Bobby?" His gaze traveled past him and toward the limp, motionless form on the ground. Blank, dull brown eyes were staring into a dark void that Dean would never see, no matter how hard he tried. Swallowing, Dean looked back at Bobby as he took a step back. "You killed him," he accused slowly. "You killed him."

Sure, the guy had decked Dean in the face, but did that really warrant his _death_? What was Bobby thinking? Dean never would have guessed Bobby to be a killer, not in a million years, and so it was so shocking to be standing here, seeing the evidence for himself.

Now he watched as Bobby approached him, bloody knife in hand and dark look in his eyes. Dean swallowed and stepped back again. "Bobby?" he whispered quietly, wondering if this was even really Bobby. Bobby wouldn't kill anyone, would he? Right? And what had that dark smoke been? Dean turned as though to run, vowing not to become Bobby's next victim, if Bobby really was a cold-blooded killer. But wouldn't he have known?

"Dean, don't," Bobby called out to him breathlessly. "Don't run. Please. I can explain."

"Explain what?" Dean asked, turning to keep his eyes on Bobby and the knife. "How you just killed a man in a dark alley?"

Bobby winced as though wounded by Dean's words. Dean narrowed his green eyes into dark slits. "I'm not a killer, Dean."

"Oh really? Then what do you call it? Permanently displacing a soul? Stabbing a guy for the hell of it? What?" Dean growled, a million thoughts flickering through his mind. He had to get out of here, a part of him snarled through him. But he had to stay because this was _Bobby_, another part of him argued, and he was so torn that he remained frozen in place.

"It's not like that," Bobby argued weakly, looking conflicted.

"Then what's it like, huh?" Dean demanded, feeling the urge to run. He felt his legs get ready, all the blood rushing to them to give him an edge and a chance to escape if that was truly going to be necessary.

_This is Bobby,_ a part of him said. _He wouldn't hurt me. He's not a killer._

_He just killed a man!_ another part growled angrily. _And you saw him! You're a witness to his murder!_

Dean swallowed thickly.

"Just let me explain, Dean, there's much you don't understand," Bobby told him quietly, his eyes wide and pleading.

Dean hesitated momentarily. "Why should I?" he asked. "You just killed someone!"

"Because…Dean, please. Don't run. I can explain."

Dean, against his better judgment, finally nodded his head. "Okay…fine. Get explaining." He crossed his arms and tried to be prepared for anything and everything.

And so Bobby proceeded to tell him…everything. Dean listened dubiously as Bobby went on about demons and what the black smoke really meant, and that the guy hadn't really been himself. It didn't change the fact that Bobby had stabbed the guy but apparently Bobby had said he hadn't had a choice. He'd had to slow the guy down enough that he could do the exorcism and Dean guessed he could understand that…except for the fact that he didn't really believe any of this.

Demons weren't real, right? It was just make believe, a myth, a legend…nothing real. Demons were just things in nightmares and weren't real, or so he believed, and Bobby was apparently telling him he was completely wrong.

As Bobby kept talking, though, Dean started to understand and see it how Bobby saw it. He couldn't ignore the evidence of the black smoke and the black eyes, though-he had seen them with his own eyes and he had to believe it. No one could have just pure black eyes, after all, and no one just randomly coughed up smoke at the sound of Latin. It wasn't natural…but maybe it was demonic.

Still uncertain, Dean followed Bobby back to the car and the two of them drove away from the store in silence, leaving the body in the alley to be found by the officer Bobby had called on his way out of the alleyway just moments before.

All the way back to the house, Dean kept thinking over and over what Bobby had told him, wondering whether or not to really believe him or if Bobby was just insane. Age would do that to people, right? But there was something about Bobby…he had never lied to Dean before, not that he knew of anyway, and his gaze and words seemed so sincere, so genuine…Dean wanted to believe him. He really did.

He just wasn't so sure he could.

Because if demons were real…what else was?

* * *

Good, bad? Let me know! Thanks for reading, and please review!

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


	4. Shades of Gray

Here is what was originally posted on this story, so some of you might have already read it. If so, sorry, and I hope to have the next part uploaded soon. I'm in the middle of writing it. And if you haven't read it yet, then go ahead and enjoy! I decided to make it one part instead of three simply so I wouldn't have to break up the chapters. Anywho, thanks for reading, and please review!

Onward!

* * *

**Bobby Plus Three**

_Shades of Gray_

_Ages: Dean 15, Adam 13, Sam 11._

Thirteen-year-old Adam Singer was more than a little annoyed as he sat on the couch in front of the TV, his little brother, Sam, whistling consistently every time a commercial came on. Adam kept looking at the clock-it was going on midnight. They were late-by an hour and a half. They were supposed to be back at ten-thirty, or so they had said, and yet they still weren't back yet. Adam wasn't entirely sure what to think of that or what it meant, but it definitely worried him.

"So when's Dean and Dad getting back?" Sam asked, glancing over at him. Adam shrugged and kept quiet, feeling as though he would explode and yell if he were to speak at the moment.

Himself, Dean, and Sam were all brothers, Dean being the eldest and Sam the youngest. They had been living with Bobby since he'd taken them in after a massive fire had killed their biological parents, Mary and John Winchester. Bobby was their father now-at least in their eyes. Dean rarely called him dad though-mostly just Bobby.

"Where'd they go?" Sam continued asking, looking at Adam expectantly.

Adam swallowed back his sharp reply because he'd promised both Dean and Bobby that he wouldn't tell Sam. He'd sworn not to tell his little brother of the supernatural monsters that lurked in the dark, and he'd said he would tell him that people hunted those things-people like Dean and Bobby. This was Dean's third hunt-and from what Adam had heard, he was getting pretty good. Adam was still learning how to shoot a gun and was forced, for the most part, to stay home with Sam when Dean and Bobby were out. He didn't have as much training as Dean, as Bobby had told him. He'd only learned of the supernatural existence last year, after a werewolf had threatened to eat his heart out. But thankfully, his elder brother had saved him and had been forced to tell him the truth.

"Adam? Where'd they go?" Sam asked once more, causing Adam to shift his blue-gray eyes toward him. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"They went out," he grumbled, glancing once more at the clock. Where were they? They should have been back by now.

"Out where?"

His little brother never seemed to run out of questions.

"Out," he replied instantly, feeling his annoyance surge up again. "I'll be right back." He stood and exited the room, entering the kitchen, where the phone was located. There was another phone in the study-where Bobby kept most of his books and whatnot-but Sam and Adam weren't allowed to go in there. Adam suspected it was because that was where Bobby kept information on the supernatural, maybe even weapons.

He picked up the phone and dialed in the number, and then waited. It rang several times before it rolled over to voicemail, and he scowled.

"_You've reached Dean-either I'm busy or I just don't want to talk to you. Just kidding, leave a message and I'll get back to you."_

When the beep signaled, Adam sighed. "Hey, it's me-call me, you guys are late." Then he hung up and turned to head back into the living room, where Sam was waiting, watching him with narrowed hazel eyes.

"What's going on?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Nothing."

"Liar," the youngest brother accused. "What are you hiding?"

Luckily, Adam didn't have to answer that question. He was saved as the front door flew open to reveal an angry, frantic Bobby, who stormed into the house and disappeared down the hall, moving toward his study. Adam frowned and looked back toward the door, expecting Dean to come through, scowling that Bobby had left him to carry in the luggage, but he never did. The doorway remained empty and the door remained closed from where Bobby had slammed it shut.

Adam and Sam shared looks and Adam moved forward, prying the door open to peer outside. Bobby's car was empty, and Dean was nowhere in sight. Swallowing, Adam felt dread start to consume him as he turned to frown at Sam.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, confused. "Didn't they go out together?"

"Yeah…" Adam murmured slowly, unsure as to what to say or do exactly. Growling lowly to himself, he narrowed his eyes at Sam. "Stay here." Then he took off down the hall Bobby had gone down and stormed into his study, glaring.

Bobby was busy digging through a pile of papers, his movements urgent and hurried. Adam moved toward the desk Bobby was bent over and slammed his hands down on the wood. Bobby looked up at him and instantly looked guilty, causing the knot in Adam's stomach to grow more violent.

"Where's Dean?" Adam asked, his voice losing the strength and anger he had originally been planning to use.

Bobby averted his gaze and the fear and dread grew.

"Where's Dean?" he asked again, his voice more demanding this time as he narrowed his eyes.

"Not here," Bobby replied gruffly.

Anger flared within Adam. "Where is he? Why isn't he with you?" Dean had left with Bobby and he should have come back with Bobby…so where was he? Why did it seem like Bobby was trying to avoid his questions? None of this painted an even remotely pretty picture in Adam's mind. It just left him filled with dread.

Bobby finally looked at him. "Gone…" he murmured before he looked away again, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

Adam stared, wide-eyed. "Gone?" he uttered breathlessly, feeling as though he'd just taken a rough kick to the gut. He hunched over a little as though that would help him gather his bearings and allow him to breathe more easily. "What do you mean _gone_?" He stepped backward, as though the more distance he put between himself and Bobby would make the grizzled man's words _that_ less true.

Bobby shook his head. "The ghost…ambushed us."

"What do you mean?" Adam inquired, swallowing thickly, his heart racing wildly in his chest, a speeding _thud-thud_ as it resonated through him, so loud he was sure Bobby could hear it.

"We thought it was the piano holding it here…but we were wrong. We let our guard down for a _second_ and…" Bobby shook his head again, trailing off on his words as he started to quickly dig through the pile of papers once more.

"Bobby, what do you mean? Where's Dean?" Adam asked even though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. Ever since he'd learned the truth, fears had played through his head. What if his family was killed one day? What if one of them didn't come back? And now it was happening, his fears starting to play out before him, and he had no idea what to do.

"The ghost got him," Bobby finally admitted, pulling out a flask. He took a long swig of it while Adam stared at him with wide eyes, denial thrumming through him so sharply he could almost taste it.

"Got him?" he uttered shakily. "What do you mean?"

"It ambushed us…and Dean just fucking disappeared." Bobby knocked things off of the desk harshly, as though taking his frustration on it as he released an angry growl. "It got to him and I just _let it_! I couldn't stop it, couldn't react. He was just there one minute and then the next…!" Bobby trailed off and closed his eyes, as though trying to control his emotions.

Adam stared at him with bright eyes, full of fear. "So…where is he?" he asked quietly, needing to know. "We can find him, right? He's okay?"

_Please be okay,_ he silently begged, because he couldn't stand for this to really be true. His big brother had to be okay, after all. Right? Dean was never hurt, never gone like this, and Adam hoped they could find him and get him back, unscathed.

"Adam?" came Sam's voice from the doorway. Adam spun to find his little brother standing there, watching them with worried hazel eyes, his shaggy, light brown bangs hanging in his face. "What's going on?" he inquired as he started to enter the room, frowning as he glanced around to take notice of all the books and the papers thrown about the room.

"Nothing," Adam said quickly as he hurried toward his brother, throwing Bobby a look over his shoulder. Bobby went back to the papers and Adam grabbed Sam's arm. "Let's go to bed."

Or, more accurately, Sam needed to go bed. Adam, on the other hand, didn't see sleep in his near future, not until Dean was back-and he had to believe his big brother would really be coming back, coming home. The alternative was simply unacceptable.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, jerking free of Adam's hold once they reached the living room, leaving Bobby in the study to search through papers. "Where's Dean?"

Adam bit down hard on his lower lip, wondering what he could say to his brother. He had promised not to tell him anything but he needed to talk to someone about it-and Bobby was obviously busy. And Dean was missing, maybe hurt or worse, and Adam shuddered at the thought. "Dad's going to go get him," he assured his little brother finally.

Sam glared at him. "Liar. What aren't you telling me? Where's Dean, and why isn't he with Dad?"

Adam swallowed. "It's complicated, Sam. But don't worry-Dad will go get Dean."

He had to believe that, after all. He had to believe his brother would be coming back home, and soon. That was the only option he could see.

"Adam, I want to know," Sam said sternly. "What are you hiding? What's going on?"

Adam shook his head. "Later, Sam, okay?" he mumbled. "I can't do this right now."

And wasn't that the truth?

"Adam-" Sam started with narrowed eyes.

Adam growled. "I said later, okay?" he snapped, glaring at his little brother. He needed to take his anger out on something and apparently that something was actually a someone, and it was Sam. Sam frowned and blinked at him. "We'll find Dean." Adam turned and stormed away.

Sam quickly followed after him. "Find Dean?" he asked slowly. "What do you mean? Where'd he go? Adam? Why isn't he here?"

"Don't you ever run out of questions?" Adam muttered. "Go to bed, Sam. Now."

"You're not my boss," Sam argued heatedly. "Tell me what's going on!"

Adam just turned and walked away, quickly moving upstairs so he wouldn't have to look at his little brother and lie. He couldn't tell Sam the truth and he couldn't take his frustrations out on him, either. It wasn't fair to Sam.

It just wasn't fair, period.

He half expected Sam to come barging into the room, demanding answers, but he was relieved when it didn't happen. He thought he heard his little brother moving around in the hallway outside of their shared room but he wasn't entirely sure.

He and Sam shared a room and so he would have to see Sam sometime later anyway, and he hoped his little brother wouldn't ask again-at least not until morning, hopefully when things looked better. Hopefully Dean would be back by then and they could explain it to Sam together.

Only Dean got his own room, using the room opposite theirs on the other side of the hallway. Bobby's room was downstairs, near the study.

Adam swallowed and sat heavily on one of the twin beds in the room-his bed. The beds were pushed against opposite walls so the brothers could almost split the room in half. Sam's side was pretty clean but Adam's was pretty trashy. Sam was a freakin' neat freak, unlike Adam and Dean, who could really care less. Dean's wasn't messy, though-just Adam's. Adam wondered how his big brother could manage to make his room look so tidy when he wasn't a tidy person at all.

He grabbed his cell phone-one he'd gotten last year for his birthday as a gift from both Dean and Bobby. He usually left it in his room at night so it could charge for in the morning, and now he dialed in a familiar number and waited impatiently, his heart racing in his chest.

_Please pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up…_ he thought fervently as the phone rang and rang, seemingly never-ending.

"_You've reached Dean-"_

Adam swallowed and listened to the message. _You've reached Dean…except I haven't, have I?_ He waited and finally took in a slow breath.

"Hey," he exhaled quietly. "It's me…Um…Bobby's here and you're not. The ghost ambushed you or something? Please be okay. Give me a call, alright? Hang in there and we'll find you-I promise."

Then the phone slipped from his grip and he was suddenly overcome with the hopelessness of the situation.

* * *

Dean woke with a blazing headache, which was definitely something he could have done without. Blinking his tired eyes open, he found himself to be surrounded in darkness. Confusion settled in firmly and made itself at home within him and he struggled to clear it out as he shifted, wincing as aching muscles throbbed in protest. He rubbed gently at the back of his neck and twisted his head a little, popping sore joints. There-that felt a little better, at least.

His eyes slowly started to adjust and he realized he was in a building of some sort, the walls around him old, worn out, and wooden. They looked as though they had no right to be standing anymore. He moved as though to stand but found himself forced back down. Handcuffs clanged, keeping one of his wrists strapped firmly to a small bar near the ground. He stared at it for a moment, wondering where he was, what had happened, and why he was here.

Then he remembered.

The ghost.

Him and Bobby, burning a piano to get rid of said ghost.

And then darkness as a frozen air wrapped around him.

The ghost must have gotten the drop on him, then. How embarrassing. He scrubbed his free hand over his face and looked around, squinting through the darkness for some way to escape. But there were no nails around, or anything sharp.

"Figures," he muttered under his breath. "Why would anything be helpful? This is _so_ not my day."

He leaned against the wall behind him and settled in for a long wait, certain that Bobby was looking for him. How long had he been out? How long had he been here? He was sure Bobby would find him, and then they could both kick some ghostly ass.

Sounded like a plan to him.

Except he wasn't patient and it was already taking too damn long.

_C'mon, man…hurry up. I'm right here, in some barn…c'mon,_ he thought, as though that might actually help to some degree. Yeah, right. He felt like scoffing at himself but why bother? No one would hear him anyway. He knew that by the sound of the wind rushing against the outside of the barn. There had been warnings of a storm tonight but he and Bobby had thought they could hurry and get the job done before then, but apparently neither of them had planned on the ghost taking him hostage.

Yeah, totally unexpected.

And unfair.

Dean got a sudden thought and patted down his pockets for his phone but found them to be empty, which caused him to groan aloud. "Damn ghosts!" he cursed. "Since when do they have a brain?"

The ghost picked _now_ to get smart?

Figures.

Why could nothing ever go right with him? It was like fate seemed to hate him even though he had no idea what he'd done to piss it off so royally.

Just his luck, he guessed.

He tried to slip his wrist free of the handcuffs but found that it only forced his skin to start to chafe from his movements. Only fifteen, he had somewhat thin wrists but yet he still couldn't slip free. Damn ghosts. They could all go to hell for all he cared, damn it.

* * *

Bobby was angry with himself for letting Dean get taken in the first place. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He shouldn't have let Dean slip through his fingers, but he had and now he had to fix it. He had to find his eldest son and bring him back home. There was no other option.

He scoured his gaze over the papers as he had done several times already, struggling to see something he must have missed. Either the piano wasn't what was keeping the ghost there, or they had gotten the wrong ghost.

They had thought it was Corbett Williams, a man who had died when the piano collapsed on him about ten years ago. It was said that there was blood under the piano that had never been properly cleaned up, and they had believed that was why Corbett was there. But what if they were wrong? What if it wasn't the piano, or what if it wasn't Corbett, but some other guy that people had gotten him confused with?

Bobby growled lowly to himself. None of this was helping. With a snarl, he knocked the papers onto the floor as he stood, pushing his chair back harshly, causing the legs to scrape loudly against the floor in protest to his sudden, violent movement.

"God damn it," he growled angrily as he combed his fingers through his thinning hair. These damn boys were going to be the death of him, that much he was fairly certain of. He paced the length of the study a few times, as though by some miracle, that would help.

It didn't.

It wouldn't.

He sighed and tried to gather his thoughts, but they were scattered all over his mind and he could barely think. He itched for the taste of strong scotch, wanting to drink until he forgot this night, but he still had a feeling it would forever be implanted in his mind.

One minute, everything had been fine…and then the next…

* * *

_Three hours ago…_

Dean lit the match and set fire to the piano, which was sitting just outside the front porch of the old, abandoned house. A bruise marred the right side of Dean's face, but it would soon go away, Bobby knew. That ghost had been angry and had every right to be, really, but Dean had fared just fine, shooting it away as though it were nothing.

Good boy.

He had to bite back the urge to ruffle his eldest son's hair. Dean didn't much care for shows of affection and often felt uncomfortable by it. Bobby felt the same and so he didn't bother, just stood there, watching as he piano burned into ashes.

Once it was gone, he cuffed Dean on the back of the shoulder and the two of them started back toward the car, which was just a little ways away. It had been a small hike to get to the house from the road, after all.

The temperature dropped and Bobby's breath appeared in front of him like smoke off a cigarette. He looked around uneasily, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Then, almost as quickly as it had happened, it was over, and the natural warmth of the night returned. Bobby shook his head. "Well, that's weird," he commented to Dean as he turned to face him, half expecting Dean to snort and tell him that was quite an understatement.

But Dean said nothing.

Because he wasn't there.

Bobby turned to find blank air all around him, not a soul in sight even though he was sure Dean had been just right behind him. His heart skipped a few beats and he struggled to calm himself.

_Panicking won't help,_ he told himself. _Maybe he just wandered off or something. Damn kid. Didn't I tell him to be careful and not fall behind?_

"Dean?" he called out quietly into the stillness all around him. It was almost as though things were _too_ quiet, and the uneasy fear returned, not that he would ever really admit to being afraid. He was Bobby Singer, after all-he had a reputation to uphold. "Dean. You idjit, this isn't funny. Dean!"

It wasn't like Dean to just wander off, though. He wasn't like that. Bobby had been teaching Dean how to hunt since he was twelve, three years ago, and the kid had never wandered off once, not for anything. He took the job seriously and wanted to get it done and over with, even if he did like to joke around occasionally while they worked. Bobby could live with that, though.

But this?

This was unacceptable.

"Dean! Damn it! Where are you?" He started back the way he had come, his brows furrowed in worry. "Dean!"

But he didn't see his eldest anywhere.

It was as though he'd vanished into thin air.

Shit. How was he going to explain this to Adam? He had to find Dean.

* * *

_Present…_

Dean coughed as the area around him cooled, suddenly freezing as his breath appeared in front of him. Shivering, he narrowed his eyes, struggling to peer through the darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and he wished he had a weapon, but this damn ghost seemed to have stripped him of everything except the clothes on his back.

_Figures_.

"Well, don't be a damn coward," Dean growled into the darkness around him, his heart clenching somewhat painfully in his chest. He did not like where this was going at all. Nothing about this painted a pretty picture in his mind. "Show yourself! Go on!"

A figure shimmered to life in front of him. He glared at it, noticing the transparent frame of Corbett Williams, the guy who had been haunting a house after being killed in it when a piano fell on him. But they'd burned the piano-so why was he still here?

Corbett narrowed his foggy eyes at him. He never fully appeared, remaining mostly a misty haze in the form of a person.

"What do you want, Casper?" Dean snapped. "Huh? 'cause if you're just going to stand there, staring at me, I'd much rather be somewhere else. Things to do, stuff to buy, people to see and all that jazz. So let's get this show on the road, yeah?"

The ghost chuckled lowly, causing a small shiver to twirl around Dean's spine. He suppressed the shudder, though, refusing to give this ghostly bastard the satisfaction of seeing it.

"You are very peculiar," the ghost felt the need to tell him creepily.

"Thanks but you're not my type," Dean muttered. "I mean, first off, you'd have to actually be _solid_."

Corbett narrowed his ghostly eyes. "You look human to me."

"Um…thanks?" Dean was confused. What did Corbett mean? "I am human."

"No." Corbett shook his head. "You're not."

* * *

Bobby had a lead. It wasn't much, but he'd finally found something. Corbett Williams had been killed by the piano, yes, but when he had been dragged out of the room, his blood had stained through the carpet and into the floor boards. All Bobby had to do was find the exact place the blood had pooled and then get it out to burn it. Or he could possibly burn the house down…but that would attract attention that he simply did not need. He couldn't have people wondering what was happening, now could he? That would raise too many questions and there simply was no easy way to answer any of them.

He put a few cutting instruments into his duffel and slung it over his shoulder with a grunt. Then he moved to exit his study, finding Adam waiting for him in the hallway. Adam's eyes were narrowed and Bobby knew this conversation wasn't going to be good.

"You've found something?" Adam prompted, looking older than his thirteen years. He could do that sometimes, though. And yet other times, he acted almost exactly as a kid.

"Yeah," Bobby grunted, moving to walk around him. Adam stepped in his way.

"What have you found? Do you know where Dean is? Is he okay?" Worry shone brightly in the kid's eyes and Bobby swallowed. He wasn't much for showing emotions or being all 'touchy-feely' or anything like that, but damn it…

"I know how to get rid of the…" He looked around to make sure Sam was nowhere in sight. "Get rid of the ghost."

"Will that help Dean?"

"I hope so," Bobby sighed. Truth was, he wasn't sure what the ghost had done with his eldest, but he was pretty sure that getting rid of the ghost would at least help in some way. Hopefully Dean was still all right. The kid was sturdy, after all. Not much fazed him, even though he was only fifteen. He had definitely toughened up the past few years, after he'd learned the truth of the supernatural world when a demon had cornered them outside of a grocery store one cold, early morning.

"But you don't know where he is?" Hope fell from Adam's gaze.

Bobby sighed again. "I'll find him," he promised gruffly as he stepped around Adam again. "I'll bring him home."

"Whatever," Adam snapped, suddenly angry. "You don't even care. All you care about is getting rid of the damn ghost, but what about Dean? You don't know where he is or if he's even alive!"

The words burned as Bobby heard them and he turned to glare at the thirteen-year-old. "Don't you _dare_ say I don't care," he growled heatedly, one of his hands clenching into a fist at his side. "I'm going to find Dean, but I need the ghost out of the way," he said, surprised at how calm he sounded.

Adam glared. "What am I supposed to tell Sam, huh? He knows we're hiding something! He's getting really suspicious and frankly, I think he deserves to know."

"No," Bobby snapped. "He doesn't need to know. Don't you tell him, Adam. He's too young."

"Only a year younger than I was when I learned of it," Adam pointed out as he crossed his arms. "He needs to know, Bobby. Dean's missing, for crying out loud!"

"And I'll find him!" Bobby growled, narrowing his eyes. "I promise, I'll find him. For now, you stay here and keep Sam calm, and don't tell him."

"I can't just _lie_ to him," Adam murmured. "What if he asks?"

"Don't tell him," Bobby repeated. "I have to go." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the house, leaving Adam staring in his wake.

* * *

Dean's head was throbbing. He wanted it to stop, and he wanted to get out of this old building. An old barn, perhaps? Either way, it looked as though it were about to collapse. He tugged again at the handcuffs but his wrist was still trapped, the skin around the cuffs red and raw.

The ghost had said he wasn't human. Why? He was clearly human. He was normal, if one could consider hunting ghosts and whatnot to be part of the norm. The ghost had said he wasn't, though, and then promptly disappeared. He wasn't sure where it had gone, and quite frankly, he didn't really care.

He just wanted out of here. He wished Bobby would hurry and find him, because there was no doubt in his mind that Bobby would. What this ghost wanted with him, though, he wasn't sure. Why had it taken him in the first place? How had it been powerful enough to teleport both of them somewhere, and handcuff him to something to keep him in place? The guy had only been dead a few years, after all.

Sighing, he figured it was just the way his luck was going.

The wind outside was really starting to pick up. He hoped Bobby found him soon, because he wasn't sure how much more this old building could take. It was already creaking and shaking, trembling beneath the strength of the wind pummeling against it outside.

And on top of all of that, he was bored.

Completely, utterly bored, left staring into the darkness around him, his wrist cuffed to something so he couldn't move away or even stand. He was left sitting there, on the ground, which was cool against his warm body.

_Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…_ he thought with a heavy sigh.

Yeah.

This looked like it was going to be a _very_ long night.

* * *

Adam paced the length of the hallway outside of the room he and Sam shared. Sam, as far as he knew, was asleep in his bed, having gone to bed a while ago, just before Bobby had left. How long had that been? Two hours? Yeah. Two hours, and there still wasn't a word on Dean.

Adam had to admit that it was starting to get to him.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing there was some way he could help, but Bobby always made him stay home to watch over the house and Sam. Dean had been going with Bobby lately, and, as Adam had feared, he had not returned this time. It kept running over and over in Adam's mind and he felt nauseous from it.

His imagination was being cruel. He kept imagining Dean dead or dying, unable to ever return home again, and he hated those images with a raging passion. Those images really needed to die because there was simply no way they could ever become real. Right?

He pulled out his cell phone again from where it had been resting in his pocket. He dialed in that familiar number once more and waited, his heart clenching somewhat painfully in his chest.

"C'mon…" he muttered as the phone continued to ring. "Pick up, Dean…C'mon…"

"_You've reached Dean-"_

Growling, Adam felt like throwing his phone but he knew that would not help matters at all. It would just leave him with a shattered phone, and Dean had pitched in to help buy this phone. Adam felt like he somehow owed his brother, especially when he was missing.

"Dean, really, call me back when you get this," Adam said, because he had to believe Dean would eventually get his messages. He had to have hope. "It was all wrong-it wasn't the piano keeping the guy here. I think Dad found out what it was but…where are you, man?" He swallowed and paced a little more, closing his eyes momentarily. "Hang in there, okay? Dad will find you, and I'll come after you myself if he doesn't. So…" He swallowed again. "Yeah…hang on. Help's coming."

He ended the call with a heavy heart. Dean still wasn't answering and he had no idea what Bobby was currently doing. Judging by what Bobby had said and how he'd been acting before he'd left again, he had a lead. He was going to get rid of the ghost. Hopefully that would help Dean somehow, even though Adam wasn't entirely sure how that worked, exactly.

The floorboards creaked behind him and he spun around, his eyes widening tremendously when he saw Sam standing there in his nightclothes, a confused look in his light hazel eyes. "Sam?" Adam murmured, his mind blanking as he tried to think of what to say. How long had Sam been there? How much had he heard? If Adam was lucky, he hadn't heard anything, had just come out of his room when Adam had turned around…

"What are you talking about? What piano? What did Dad find out? Where's Dean?" Sam bombarded him with questions.

Of course, Adam was never so lucky.

Adam bit down hard on his lower lip. "It's nothing, Sammy," he murmured. "Nothing at all. I was just venting. Everything's fine. Dean's fine, Dad's fine, everything's _fine_."

Of course, he was lying through his teeth but he hoped Sam couldn't see that.

But of course his little brother could. Sam had often been labeled as a human lie detector by their father, after all. Damn it. Just Adam's luck.

"Why are you lying to me?" Sam asked, stepping closer to him. He stood just a few inches shorter than Adam, who still hadn't gotten his growth spurt. "What's going on, Adam? Where's Dean?"

Adam swallowed. Bobby didn't want him to tell Sam. He was pretty sure Dean was against the idea as well, but neither of them were here at the moment, and wasn't that the whole problem? He averted his gaze toward the ground and shifted his feet uneasily. "It's nothing," he said again, wishing Sam would just drop it. He really wasn't in the mood for this anyway.

"Stop _lying,_" Sam spat angrily, his eyes flashing to a darker color as his face flushed heatedly. "Just tell me what's going on! What are you and Dad hiding? Where's Dean? What's going on?"

Adam closed his eyes.

"Adam! Tell me!" Sam demanded.

"You don't want to know," Adam sighed.

"I do," Sam argued. "I want to know otherwise I wouldn't be asking. Tell me what's going on."

Adam glared heavily at the ground. "There are things…that you don't understand. Things in the dark."

"Like what? What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused.

Adam swallowed and looked at his little brother as he opened his mouth to explain as best as he could about the dangers of the supernatural world and all that surrounded it, including what Dean and Bobby did when they went out on hunts…

* * *

The barn creaked harshly around him and Dean swallowed, wishing he could get out of here. He had searched the area around him several times but had not found anything to use to free himself. The ghost had done a pretty thorough job of disarming him, too-even the small knife he kept hidden in his boot-like shoe wasn't there. Damn ghosts and their random smart moments!

He didn't even flinch when the ghost decided to randomly appear before him, in all its foggy glory.

"Still think I'm not human?" Dean asked, still very curious as to what Corbett had meant by that. It was really starting to worry him.

Corbett smiled. "There are big plans for you, Dean Winchester."

"Singer," Dean corrected with a sigh. He knew his real parents were Mary and John Winchester. He could remember the fire that killed them, after all, but he still considered himself as Dean Singer since he and his brothers had grown up living with the guy. Bobby Singer was his father now, not John Winchester. Dean barely remembered him. "And what do you mean, big plans? What plans?" His brows furrowed in utter confusion as the ghost walked toward him a little more, stopping a few feet away, still hidden mostly by the shadows.

"I know of someone who is very interested in you."

"Um…thanks? But I don't do blind dates, so no thanks," Dean told the ghost, his mind struggling to think of why Corbett was saying any of this to him. It didn't really make much sense. He was so confused. "And who is this someone?"

The ghost paused as though debating on whether or not to answer him. Then it finally shrugged and said very simply, "Kendal."

"Who?" Dean asked, the name not ringing any bells at all.

"He's very interested in you."

"Great. Tell him to get a new hobby." He wasn't sure what was more disturbing-the fact that a ghost was 'interested' in him or the fact that someone was saying he wasn't completely human.

"He will be here very soon," Corbett said before he suddenly stopped, his foggy eyes growing wide.

"What?" Dean asked, concerned as to what this could mean. What was happening?

"No!" Corbett screeched before he suddenly burst into flames, disappearing into nothing as his soul was torn away from this world, leaving Dean all alone in the abandoned, run-down barn.

_The hell?_ he thought with confusion. Did that mean Bobby had finally gotten rid of this ghost? Would he be somewhere nearby, looking for him?

Dean hoped so because he wasn't sure how much he or this barn could take.

* * *

Dean had to wonder who this 'Kendal' character was and why he was seemingly so interested in him. He was also curious as to why a ghost was even bothering with him. None of it really made much sense and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

The air in the barn was thick and stale. The wind was still shaking the barn and Dean tried once again to get free of the handcuffs but of course his efforts were in vain. Nothing seemed to be working. He hoped someone found him soon, hopefully before this 'Kendal' guy got here.

Dean shifted uneasily. What had Corbett meant when he'd said he wasn't human? Of course he was! Wasn't he? He felt human, looked human, sounded human, acted human…if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and swims like a duck, then it's probably a duck…right? So he was human. Corbett was just crazy. He had to be.

There was a pounding coming from somewhere. Frowning, Dean tried to peer through the overwhelming darkness around him but he couldn't see anything. The pounding continued and he stiffened, wondering if maybe it was this 'Kendal' person. He hoped not.

Then a voice shouted out, "Dean! Are you here?"

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Over here!" he called back to his father. Bobby was here, he'd found him.

Bobby's face was one of massive relief as he approached Dean and knelt next to him. "Are you all right? Shit, kiddo, you scared the crap out of me, disappearing like that."

"Sorry," Dean apologized. Bobby pulled out his knife and started to mess with the handcuffs. They finally popped open and Dean rubbed at his wrist, wincing a little as his other hand brushed across the rough, dry skin. "Thanks."

"Are you all right?" Bobby asked again as he helped Dean to his feet, his gaze never leaving him.

"I'm fine," Dean said with a sigh, feeling guilty for not immediately telling Bobby what Corbett had told him, that he wasn't…._human_. But he couldn't tell Bobby that…right? Besides, the ghost was so obviously wrong. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I took care of the ghost."

"I saw. It burst into flames."

Bobby nodded, still watching him. "You sure you're okay?"

Dean nodded, his gaze narrowed forward. "I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

"Here. I found this." Bobby handed him his phone.

"No weapons?" Dean asked hopefully.

Bobby shook his head. "Sorry, didn't see them anywhere."

Dean sighed. "Well…I guess it's okay. Let's just leave."

Bobby nodded. "Lead the way, kiddo. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Dean shrugged and started walking.

* * *

Adam sprang up from the couch, where Sam was curled up asleep, when the front door opened. He charged toward it and released a relieved grin when Dean entered the house first, quickly followed by Bobby. "Dean!" he cried, lunging into his big brother's arms. Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms around him.

"Miss me?" Dean asked casually.

Adam chuckled and then pulled back, frowning. "Are you okay?" He scanned his gaze over him and then landed his eyes on the red marking around one of Dean's wrists. Dean followed his gaze and shrugged.

"It's fine. The ghost just had a kinky attitude."

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes. "Everything go okay while we were gone, Adam?"

Adam nodded hesitantly, biting down on his lower lip. "I, um…told Sam…"

Dean's eyes flew wide while Bobby glared. "You what?" Bobby snapped.

"Dude," Dean breathed, "_what_?" His gaze shifted toward Sam, who was still sleeping on the couch.

"You were _missing,_" Adam said as though no one understand that. "I couldn't just _lie_ to him! He knew something was up!"

Dean swallowed and glanced at Bobby.

Bobby seemed angry. "What did he say?"

"He just…didn't believe me at first, but…" Adam shifted uneasily.

"But what?" Bobby asked.

"I…um…showed him your journal…and then he believed me. Started crying but…he tired himself out and fell asleep."

Bobby growled lowly. "Damn it, I told you _not_ to tell him."

"I had to," Adam replied weakly, glancing at Dean. "Right Dean? I couldn't just lie to him."

"Oh, please don't drag me into this," Dean mumbled as he rubbed at his head. "My head already hurts enough." He moved toward the couch and sat down next to Sam before he reached out and tugged his baby brother toward him. Adam slowly approached the couch as Bobby left the room to put their things away in his study. "Sammy? Hey, kiddo, wake up." He shook the eleven-year-old.

Sam's eyes fluttered open slowly and he looked confused for a moment. Adam sat on the arm of the couch, frowning a little. Then Sam's eyes focused on Dean and he shot up, wrapping his arms around his brother like Adam had done.

"Dean! You're okay!" Sam said quickly.

Dean hugged his little brother back in kind. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine." He swallowed. "So, um…Adam told you about…uh…?"

"Yes, and I'm…glad he did," Sam murmured as he pulled away. "I can't believe a _ghost_ took you!"

Dean glanced at Adam. "You told him about that?"

"I had to," Adam muttered.

Dean sighed and shook his head before glancing back at Sam. "Everything is okay, Sammy. I'm fine. The ghost is gone. Everything's okay." There was a strange glint in his eyes, though, and Adam frowned deeply.

"You're hiding something," he stated simply, narrowing his eyes.

Dean paused. "Not much gets by you, huh?"

"Nope. So spill. Are you really okay?"

"Yeah. It has nothing to do with that," Dean said with a heavy sigh.

"Then what?" Adam asked. Sam frowned at his big brothers.

"Spill," Sam said.

Dean swallowed and glanced away. "The, um…ghost. He said something to me."

"Like what?" Adam asked, confused. "What'd he say?"

Dean glared at the ground. "He said…He said I'm not human."

* * *

Well, thanks for reading, and please let me know how it sounds! Please review ;) Thanks!

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


	5. Crossfire

Sorry this is so short...and I'm sorry if it's confusing. I wasn't going to have this be a part, but I wound up writing it anyway. Sigh. You're going to have more questions after next chapter, and then I'm afraid, in like two more chapters, this story will end and your questions won't really get answered until book 2. Anywho, thanks for reading, and please review!

Onward!

* * *

**Bobby Plus Three**

_Crossfire_

_Ages: Dean 16, Adam 14, Sam 12_

Shooting was fun. School? Not so much. Dean hated doing homework of any kind and he prayed he didn't have to do any such work in the future. He doubted much of what they did and learned at school would be used in the life of a hunter, right? And that was what he was going to be. A hunter, just like Bobby. That was the coolest job ever, as far as he was concerned, right? People could only dream of being as cool as Bobby and other hunters. And Dean wanted to be just like them. He was going to be the best hunter in the world, as he told himself. He just had to practice.

And shooting was easy and fun. He hit every target dead center with ease, and even Bobby had called him a natural at handling a gun. Such praise didn't come often from Bobby…unless you were Sam or Adam, then you were praised all the time. Dean, on the other hand, wasn't great at academics, like Sam, and he wasn't great at keeping the house together, like Adam, who cooked and cleaned and generally made a nice housewife, which made Dean chuckle. He was also on the soccer team, which also earned him a lot of praise.

All Dean had was his skills at shooting. That was it. He wasn't good at anything lese and he doubted he ever would be, but killing things? That sounded like fun and it was definitely something he thought he would be good at, for once in his life, he could be good at something.

Sighing, he listened as Bobby called out to him from the house for supper. His stomach growled at the thought of food and he grinned just thinking about it. He moved to grab his gun, which was sitting next to him on the ground, and then something very odd and very strange happened.

It moved.

Without him touching it.

It just shot toward his hand and into his grasp, and for a long moment, all he could do was stare. What the hell did I just do? What happened? _Holy shit, I'm going crazy_, he thought to himself, because that was the only explanation, right? Yeah, that was it. He was nuts. That was all there was to it.

He was imagining things, that was all. He was so hungry he was seeing things. He had just grabbed the gun, it hadn't shot into his hold. No, he'd reached for it but he didn't remember doing it. That was what had happened, right? Yeah, that was it. That had to be it.

Shaking his head, he held on tight to the gun and moved toward the house. Bobby was standing on the back porch, frowning at him.

"Something wrong, Dean?" he asked.

Dean shook his head and entered the house, not wanting to talk about it. He put the gun on top of the refrigerator, where only he and Bobby could grab it. Adam wasn't quite tall enough yet, but he was quickly growing, and so was Sammy, but the gun was safe there for now. He sat at the kitchen table, where Adam and Sam were already seated, digging into their plates. A plate was already settled in front of him, and he poked slowly at his food, wondering if he had really just imagined that part outside. What if it had been real?

That ghost had said he wasn't human. Sure, he had mostly forgotten about that this past year. Ghosts were insane, after all. But still…what if it had been telling the truth? A shiver crawled through him and he quickly shoved the thought away. That simply wasn't possible. He was human, and he was normal.

And he was going to be a hunter when he was older. Who cared about what some dead guy said?

* * *

Bobby had gone out to help some hunter with some problem nearby, leaving Dean in charge for the night. That was fine, as Sam was already asleep and Adam was getting ready to crash on the couch. The two of them were watching movies, but Dean figured it would be time for bed soon.

Dean started to stand to grab the remote from Adam and turn the TV off, when it suddenly turned off on its own. Staring at the TV, Dean released a slow, careful breath, telling himself he was just imagining things again. Maybe Adam had pressed it accidentally, or maybe he was just messing with him.

Maybe it was a ghost.

Except Bobby's house was pretty ghost proof. And Dean didn't feel the usual warnings he felt when there was a supernatural creature nearby. Usually his hair stood on end and he felt cold all over, but right now, he felt just fine.

Except for the fact that he was losing his mind.

He took in a deep breath. _Alright, Dean, just calm down, man_, he told himself._ Breathe in, breathe out, repeat the process…there you go. Nothing's wrong. Adam just pressed it accidentally, that's all. You know it is._

Except suddenly his head was hurting…and the TV turned back on.

"Shit," he breathed, staring at it. The channels started changing quickly and he looked at Adam, snatching the remote from his hold and watching it as well. The buttons weren't stuck down or anything, so he didn't know why this was happening. Adam woke with a frown, blinking his eyes open.

"Pick a channel already," he grumbled, and then sat up when he took notice of the look on Dean's face. "What's wrong?"

The channels kept flicking, and he took notice of the fact that Dean wasn't pressing the buttons on the remote.

"What's going on?" he asked, jumping to his feet, frowning worriedly.

"I don't know," Dean said, dropping the remote to the ground. He had no freakin' clue as to what was happening, but his head was really starting to hurt. Swallowing, he sat heavily on the couch and rubbed at his temples while Adam stayed standing, staring at the TV.

"Why's it doing that?"

"I don't _know_," Dean told him.

"Are you okay?" His brother sat next to him and gripped his shoulder.

"I'm fine…just a headache."

"Are you sure?"

"Christ, Adam, what's with all the damn questions?" Dean snapped, glaring at his brother as he jumped to his feet, moving away from him. "I'm fine!"

And then he had to duck as the clock flew off the wall and almost rammed into his head. Staring at where the clock hit the ground, he heard Adam release a shocked breath, and then his little brother was grabbing his arm again. "Dean, what's going on?"

"I…I don't know…I think I'm doing it."

"What? That doesn't make any sense!"

"I…I don't know." And that was what really sucked out loud. He didn't have any idea as to what was happening, and it kind of scared him, though he would absolutely never admit it, not in a million years, and especially not to his little brother. "I don't know…"

The clock flew from the ground and slammed into the wall, as though confused as to which direction to go.

"Dean, if you're doing that," Adam said, wide-eyed as he stared at the clock, "then make it _stop_."

"How?" Dean spat. "You think I can just yell _STOP_ and it-"

The clock fell to the ground, motionless. The TV stopped changing channels.

"…stops?" Dean continued, frowning.

Adam was staring at him. "God, Dean, you really _were_ doing it!"

Dean swallowed thickly and bolted out the back door and into the night around him, struggling to come to terms with what had just happened, wondering what the hell it was he had just done.

"Dean!" his little brother called out to him.

He ignored it, for the first time, and he kept running.

_I'm a freak._

_Some kind of non-human, supernatural freak!_

And he ran faster as though he could escape himself.

* * *

Well...hopefully I will have more up soon ;) Thanks for reading, please review! Sorry if it sucks!

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


	6. Bite Me

Sorry it's taken me so long to update ;) Only one more chapter left after this one! Yay! Then I can start book 2, hehe, which will hopefully be longer. Anyway, this part is kind of long...so...hehe yeah. Anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

Onward!

* * *

**Bite Me**

_Ages: Dean 17, Adam 15, Sam 13._

Bobby didn't know what to think of Dean at the moment. This past year, the boy had grown more quiet and reserved, which certainly wasn't like him. The only thing he seemed to take an interest in was fixing cars and hunting the supernatural, which Bobby let him do more frequently now. He took him on a few easy hunts with him, mostly to just get rid of ghosts, and then there had been that werewolf and demon…but mostly just ghosts. He didn't like leaving Dean alone on a hunt, either, especially after that ghost had captured him two years ago. It still gave Bobby chills to think about it, to remember the fear he had felt when he'd turned to find Dean gone. He'd thought, briefly, about getting some sort of tracking device for him, but Dean had just looked at him like he'd grown a second head or something crazy like that. Which, yeah, maybe Bobby was being paranoid. But better to be paranoid than to be without a son, or so Bobby thought. He just wanted to make it so that it never happened again.

Adam, as he had told him, was never going to hunt. The kid was enthusiastic and wanted to help, but Bobby was already ashamed he'd dragged Dean into this life. He wasn't going to do the same thing with Adam as well. He'd vowed to give up hunting when he'd taken in the three boys, but things had come up and hunters still needed help. Things were still killing people and if it was nearby, he couldn't just sit back and let it keep happening, waiting for someone to eventually show up. No, he had to take care of it himself. And thus Dean had gotten involved when a demon had tracked them down at a grocery story. And then Adam had learned of the supernatural when a werewolf had tried to have him for a snack. Dean had saved him and had probably fully engrossed himself in the hunter's lifestyle. He wanted to hunt more, ever since then, and Bobby couldn't just say _no_, not when Dean rarely ever asked for anything as it was.

And Sam…well, Sam knew of the supernatural. He hadn't been put through any sort of training, hadn't handled any weapons, but he seemed engrossed in those books Bobby kept of the supernatural. He liked research, which was strange but Bobby wasn't going to argue. He hated research himself, and Dean seemed to share that trait. Sometimes it was hard to convince himself that these boys _weren't_ biologically his…but damn it, they _were_. They were his boys now, his three sons, and he wasn't going to let anything screw that up. Not some supernatural creature, not people, not anyone.

They were his. His family. A family he'd thought he'd never have because that demon had tricked him into killing his beloved wife. But now he had sons, people to look after and care for. And for these years he'd had them with him, things couldn't have been better. It was like he'd found a part of himself that had previously been non-existent, and though he wasn't necessarily sure what to think of it, he liked it. A lot. He liked this part of him.

The part he didn't like, however, was the fact that since he cared so much about these boys, his sons, the worry increased tenfold. Each time he left the house, he feared for them, for Adam and Sam, because he usually took Dean with him. And he feared more so for Dean, who was hunting with him. Especially when the two of them would get separated, which he loathed and had told Dean not to let happen, but still, some things couldn't be helped. Bobby knew that. That was just the way of a hunter, in his mind, but still. Was it so wrong to want to keep his family safe?

He'd tried talking Dean out of hunting, out of this lifestyle, but the seventeen-year-old seemed dead set on it. Since Dean rarely ever asked for anything, Bobby didn't have the heart to turn him down. Besides, Dean seemed to really enjoy it, really got into it and _liked_ it to some extent, and who was he to take that away from him?

This hunt was different, though. A wendigo. A damn wendigo! What it was doing so close to home, Bobby wasn't sure. It wasn't like there were really any forests around, right? At least not big ones. But then again, the wendigo hadn't been around for very long, according to the reports. Still, though, it needed to be taken care of, and fast, because it was killing people at an alarming rate. Usually a wendigo would hold the victim for a while, knew how to savor the food, but this one hadn't seemed to quite grasp that concept as of yet. Bobby wasn't sure what that meant, but he didn't like it, not one bit.

And he certainly didn't feel right taking Dean with him. But this thing needed to be taken care of, they needed an extra hand, and Dean was begging to go. Normally, Bobby would have said no in a heartbeat. A wendigo was unlike anything Dean had ever faced before, after all, and he just didn't feel comfortable with this. It was too dangerous for a seventeen-year-old. But he and another hunter, Rob, weren't enough to take this thing on alone. Actually, Bobby would have liked to have at least four people. A wendigo was a tricky hunt and he absolutely hated them. He didn't want to take Dean, but as Rob and Dean had both stubbornly pointed out, it wasn't like they had a lot of options. They needed an extra hunter and Dean was ready and willing to go. Rob liked the idea, said it was good training. Dean was eager to get this show on the road, and Bobby just kept shaking his head. He didn't like where this was going.

Adam and Sam were upstairs asleep, or at least they were supposed to be. Sam was pretty good at being asleep by midnight, but Adam seemed content to lay awake in bed and sneak down during odd hours of the night. Dean had caught him on more than one occasion, as had Bobby. Adam had claimed it was because Sam had been having problems sleeping, waking in the middle of the night screaming from horrible nightmares. No one knew what to think of the nightmares, really. Dean and Adam did what they could to help Sam sleep peacefully, and Bobby was just hoping it was some sort of a teen phase that Sam would eventually grow out of. After all, when one knew of the supernatural, it wasn't uncommon for them to have nightmares.

"I don't like this," Bobby said for what to be the sixtieth time. It seemed that no one was listening to him, because Dean and Rob continued talking and making plans, hunched over a map on the kitchen table as though Bobby hadn't even spoken a word. Grumbling to himself, Bobby moved toward the table to get in on the conversation. If this was going to happen, it was better for them to prepared, after all. Or so he kept telling himself.

"I think we should go in the morning," Rob said, pointing at a green area on the map, which meant a forest area. "Early. Like maybe five in the morning, before the sun's up. The thing should be going back to its hideout by then, right?"

"We don't know that for sure," Bobby said with a scowl. "They don't necessarily have to sleep in the day. They're just better hunters at night."

"But still, I'd say that's out best shot," Rob said before his gray eyes slid toward Dean. "What do you say, kiddo?"

Dean smirked. "I say it's a plan. When do we start packing?"

Bobby groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I still don't like this."

"Dully noted, Bobby," Rob sighed. "Let's get packing and get some sleep. We leave at dawn."

* * *

Dean usually wasn't one for getting up early, but he was so excited that he barely slept at all that night so it wasn't really a problem. He left Adam and Sam a note, telling them where he and Bobby were and to have them call them should something come up. He left specific instructions for Adam, as he always did when he and Bobby went out on a hunt of some kind. He told Adam the basics: lock up the house, don't talk to strangers, don't poke Sammy in the eye just 'cause you're bored…yeah, those kinds of things. General house rules, but Singer Style.

Then he took his duffel and swiftly exited the house, tossing it into the back of Bobby's truck. Normally Bobby had a car, and a pretty nice one at that, like an old muscle car, but he'd pulled out his truck for the past few jobs. Something about his car needing a tune-up or something. Dean wasn't sure. Honestly, he didn't really care about Bobby's care at the moment…no, he had his sights set on the '67 Chevy Impala, which was in the Singer Salvage lot to be fixed up. Dean would help fix it and then he'd ask the guy how much he wanted for it, because he was growing rather fond of that car. He could picture himself riding it.

"Ready to hit the road, kid?" Rob asked.

Dean was getting tired of being called 'kid' or 'kiddo'. He was seventeen, for crying out loud! He wasn't a kid. He'd technically be an adult next year. Sighing, he nodded and climbed into the truck, sitting in the middle as the two adults climbed in on either side of him, Bobby driving. Bobby paused, as though he wanted to say something, but then he just shook his head and keyed the ignition, pulling away from the house.

The doors were locked, Adam and Sam were safe and asleep inside, and it was time to hit the road.

Mostly, Dean felt exited and ready for action. He had been more quiet lately, due to that freak experience a year ago with the TV and clock, which Adam had been witness to. He'd told Sam, and then he'd had both of his little brothers out searching for him, trying to find him and tell him it was okay. But it wasn't okay, because if Dean was some freak, something supernatural, Bobby would kill him, right? Bobby was a hunter and a hunter killed supernatural things…and he was a _thing_. A freak. He wasn't sure exactly _what_ he was but he didn't like it, didn't want any part of it. From that ghost saying he wasn't human and then the weird experience…it was all too much. He didn't know what to do or think or say…and he just wanted it all to go away.

Luckily, there hadn't been any more experiences since that night a year ago. He was pretty normal now, which left him feeling good.

All the more reason to be enthused about this hunt.

With a smile, Dean leaned back in his seat as they drove down the road, locked, loaded, and ready to go kick some serious wendigo ass.

* * *

Adam woke around seven that morning to the sound of his little brother screaming. _Such lung capacity,_ he thought as he jumped up and rolled out of bed, his eyes flying open wide as he looked at Sam, who was writhing in his bed, sweat shining brightly on his knitted brows. "Sammy?" he murmured as he moved forward, careful not to get too close. A startled Sammy was painful, as he'd learned the first few times he'd tried to wake Sam when he was in a state like this. His little brother had a killer right hook, something Dean had neglected to mention from the few times Dean had been the one to wake him. How come it was always Adam that came out bruised? Sighing, he reached out slowly, cautiously, and lightly grabbed his little brother's shoulder. "Sam? You okay? Wake up. Hey!" He shook him slightly and then flinched away when Sam jolted awake, sitting up, panting heavily.

Sweat ran down Sam's face, his hazel eyes wide as they locked onto Adam as though confused for a moment. Then he startled and climbed out of bed, not saying a word to Adam before he lunged out of the room, down the hallway. Adam frowned and followed after him, watching as he threw open the door to Dean's room. The house was quiet and empty, and Adam returned to his room and found a note on his bedside table. Sighing, he picked it up and read it over. The usual, really. Dean and Bobby…Dad…were off on a hunt, leaving him in charge. And no poking Sam in the eye. Well, damn, there went his plan for the day.

He jerked out of his thoughts and almost dropped the note, the paper crumbled in his hand, when Sam entered the room looking panicked, his eyes wide and frantic. "Sammy? What's wrong?" Adam asked in concern, wondering if maybe his little brother was sick or something. Dean would never let him live it down if Sammy got sick on his watch. The last time Sam had been sick was years ago, when they'd all been pretty little still. Bobby had mostly taken care of Sam but Dean had been there too, Adam could remember. Adam, at the time, had been too young to really know what to do to help, but he'd tried his best to be there. "Are you sick?" He moved forward and pressed the back of his hand to Sam's forehead, checking for a temperature. His brother had a cold sweat, which made him frown.

Sam swatted his hand away. "Where's Dean?" he asked quickly, his voice frantic which just made Adam worry all the more.

"He and Dad went on a hunt," he said with a shrug. It was no big deal or anything. Dean liked hunting and Bobby needed a partner. It made sense. He just didn't like that he always got stuck at home, babysitting and doing school work and whatnot. Bobby wouldn't even let him go on any hunts, which he didn't think was very fair. "Why? What's wrong?" He narrowed his eyes in concern. "Do you need them or something? I can call-"

"Dean's in trouble," Sam said urgently, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Adam blinked at his baby brother, frowning. "Sam, what makes you say that? He's fine, he's with Dad." Except he couldn't help the way his own heart started to race at Sam's words.

"No," Sam shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "I _know_, okay? I know! He's not okay! The…the…I don't know what it is…what are they hunting?"

"I don't know…" Adam thought back over the note and then remembered the excitement in Dean's words as he told him about the wendigo. "A wendigo." He shrugged. "I don't know what it is but apparently it's killing people in a forest or something like that." He couldn't remember all the details, but it wasn't like they ever told him everything anyway. They didn't want him to get involved.

Sam looked sick to his stomach, his face pale. Adam was really beginning to worry that he was sick or something.

"Why don't you lie down or something?" he suggested, grabbing his little brother's arm to lead him toward Sam's bed, but Sam quickly jerked away, growling at him angrily.

"Why won't you listen to me?" he snapped. "Dean's in trouble! The…the wendigo, it's got him!"

"What? What do you mean? Sam, I think you were just having a bad dream," Adam said even as he tried to quell his own rising fear. He always feared when his brother and father went out on hunts, but he couldn't stop them. He just had to pray they would be all right and would come home soon. He had to pray for their well-being and hope everything would turn out okay in the end. Sam's words were really starting to make him increasingly uneasy.

"I just know! My dream…it's not _just_ a dream, Adam, I…" Sam shook his head, looking confused and hurt at the same time. Only Sammy could pull that look off, Adam was sure. "It was more than that…and my head is killing me…" Sam pressed his hands to his head and winced before he promptly collapsed. Adam rushed forward and caught him before he could collide with the ground.

"What the hell, Sam?" Adam shouted. "Are you okay? What's wrong with you?"

"My head is just…hurting…Adam, he's in trouble. The wendigo has him…it's gonna kill him! Please, you have to call and warn them!" Sam said urgently despite his pain.

Adam swallowed, not sure what to do. "Sam…" He couldn't just leave his little brother on the floor of their room while he went for the phone, after all.

"Go," Sam growled at him. "Before it's too late."

He didn't like Sam's words at _all_, but even so, he finally nodded and hurried to leave the room and get the phone. He figured the best way to help Sam at the moment would be to put his mind - and Adam's mind - at ease. He just had to call and make sure everything was okay…that _Dean_ was okay…and that his little brother wasn't going crazy or something. Also, he would grab the aspirin. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

He grabbed the cordless phone and quickly dialed in his brother's cell number. It went straight to voicemail, and he scowled before dialing in his father's number. After four rings, Bobby's gruff voice answered, "Hello?" He sounded somber and angry and guilty all in one and Adam felt dread claw forcefully at him.

"Uh…hi, Dad," he said slowly, taking in a deep breath. "Sammy had a nightmare."

"Adam, we're kind of busy-"

"Let me talk to Dean," Adam said, because surely Dean was with them, right? Bobby had been careful lately to not let Dean out of his sight on hunts, ever since that ghost incident, for which Adam was grateful.

"Adam…" There was a regretful pause and Adam felt his stomach drop tremendously.

"Dad, let me talk to Dean," Adam said, this time more forcefully because he couldn't deny the fear that was growing within him, the fear that Sammy was right and that something really was happening, that Dean really was in trouble. A knot tightened painfully in his gut and left him somewhat breathless. "Where's Dean? He's not answering his phone…"

But that didn't mean anything…sometimes, if Dean was really into a hunt, he either forgot his phone in the truck or turned it off so whatever they were hunting wouldn't be able to find him if it suddenly went off. Normally Dean would have his phone on and would answer no matter what. So yeah, it was kind of starting to really worry him…

"Adam…Dean…um…don't worry, we'll be home soon," Bobby assured him, but there was just something in his tone of voice that left him growing increasingly worried.

"What are you saying?" Adam demanded. "Where's Dean?"

"I have to go-"

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I promise it will be okay," Bobby said quickly, "we'll find him."

"You'll _find_ him? What does _that_ mean? Dad?"

"I have to go."

The line went dead and the dial tone rang in Adam's ear. He dropped the phone angrily and paced for a moment, wondering what to do. Could he just go up and tell Sam that maybe he was right? What had Sam said, exactly? It was going to kill Dean. A cold knot of dread and fear slid easily through Adam's heart and he had no way of stopping it, of fixing this mess. He didn't know what to do or how to stop anything from happening. How Sam even knew any of this was completely beyond him.

Swallowing thickly, Adam slowly climbed the stairs and entered their shared room, where Sam was resting on the bed. He turned wide eyes onto Adam as he entered the room, and it took all Adam had in him not to say anything. Instead he just shook his head and Sam seemed to get his meaning, for his eyes widened even more, if that were possible, and he swallowed thickly. "No," he said quietly.

Adam said nothing, just watched him, not sure what to do at a moment like this. Dean was…in the position of having to be _found_, again, and he didn't know what to do or say to calm his little brother. A part of him wanted to be mad at Dean for putting him in this situation again, and another part of him wanted to be angry with Bobby for letting Dean disappear again in the first place to search him down. But a larger part was mostly mad at himself for allowing any of this to happen, even though he was pretty sure none of it was his fault.

"We have to find him," Sam said, instantly jumping up. He stopped and grabbed his head, sinking back down to sit on his bed.

Adam swallowed and tossed him the aspirin. "Dad's on it," he said gruffly. He trusted Bobby, he really did, but he didn't like it when Bobby took Dean on hunts. He especially didn't like it when Dean wound up _missing_ on said hunts. It just put a horrible taste in his mouth and he didn't know what to do about it. He took in a slow breath. "Dean's okay…Dad will find him."

At least, he really hoped so.

He couldn't accept the alternative.

"What happened in your dream, Sam? You have to tell me," Adam said, because his little brother had been right so far, and even though he was worried that Sam even thought his dreams were coming true, he had to know. He had to.

Sam swallowed as though in pain. "He got eaten. The…wendigo…it…" He closed his eyes. "Bit into him and…just…he was gone. Adam, it's gonna kill him."

"Don't say that," Adam said even as his heart raced in his chest at Sam's words.

Bobby would find Dean before any of that happened. He had to, right?

* * *

Dean found himself strung up in some dark cave. The walls and floor were damp and cold, and his arms were wrenched over his head and tied to the ceiling. Damn, a wendigo really didn't fool around, did it? Wincing, he blinked his eyes open for the first time since he'd been knocked unconscious earlier. He could barely remember what happened, really. He had been in between Bobby and Rob, ready for anything and everything…until he'd suddenly just been unconscious. It had happened that quick, before he knew how to react, and then it was over. Now he was strung up in here like some victim, which he most certainly was _not_.

He twisted his wrists painfully. The ropes were tight and cut into his skin. How did a wendigo even get a hold of any rope in the first place? It was strange, coming across a supernatural monster that had enough smarts to tie him up. That hadn't happened since that ghost years ago. Dean didn't like it either way.

A hungry growl came from behind him and he froze instinctively. A dark shape huddled before him and he could just make out the shape of the wendigo. He had barely seen it before, just a brisk outline, but now that he could really see it, he felt like vomiting. There was a stench coming off of it so foul that he wished he could somehow plug his nose. What was that smell? Something off the other victims the wendigo had devoured or something? Dean wasn't sure but he didn't really want to think about it all that much.

The wendigo let loose a blood-curdling screech that damn near made Dean's ears bleed. Wincing, he flinched back as the thing lunged toward him, jaws gaping wide as though to take a massive bite out of him. _Oh, hell no,_ Dean thought as he twisted, barely able to avoid the teeth on that thing. The monster growled unhappily and grabbed for him again, this time keeping him in place like the smart little - big - monster it was, and then it sank its teeth deep into the flesh of his side, making him hiss as pain sparked through him, flooding his vision and his mind. Blood seeped warmly down his side as the wendigo tore his flesh away from him, chewing happily, and Dean felt absolutely sick to his stomach. _Of all the ways to go out…why like this?_ he thought with a sigh, feeling queasy as the pain intensified.

As the thing came toward him again, all he could think was, _Nice knowing you, world…_

* * *

"Are you sure it's this way?" Bobby asked worriedly, wanting to be sure of their direction before they started walking. They'd had a vague notion of where the thing was staying, the hideout, when they'd started this hunt but things could change. And now that thing, that _monster_, had Dean and Bobby just wanted to get him back in one piece, alive and unharmed. He had no doubt that both Adam and Sam would kill him if he let anything happen to the eldest boy, and he didn't plan on it in the first place. He was going to get his son back. He couldn't believe he'd allowed it to happen again in the first place.

It had just happened so fast…by the time he'd had the flamethrower up and ready, it had been too late. Dean had been gone, disappeared from between them, and the snarls of the wendigo had faded into the thickness of the forest. And Bobby had just felt like he'd failed his sons…Dean…again. All over again. How could this keep happening? He had to get him back, as he kept vowing to himself. This wasn't going to be anyone's last hunt…except maybe for the wendigo. They were going to kill it, he was sure. And he was going to get Dean back alive.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Rob said with a shrug.

How he could be so casual and nonchalant at a moment like this, Bobby didn't know. He didn't like that Rob was so callous with his son's life. He didn't like that he'd allowed himself to be talked into bringing Dean in the first place, even when he'd known how dangerous it was. Yes, he blamed himself. He had been the one to agree that Dean could come on this hunt. He'd told Dean to stay in the middle, where he'd thought he'd be most protected.

He'd been wrong, though. So very wrong…and now it was maybe too late to remedy his mistake.

He prayed not.

Because he was going to find Dean.

_I'm coming,_ he sent out in a silent thought. _Just hold on._

* * *

Dean flinched in complete and utter surprise as the wendigo burst into flames as it sank its teeth into him again, for the second time. Maybe he was just dizzy and lightheaded, but he sure couldn't explain away the _smell_ of flesh burning, or the sounds of that creature crying out in pain as it died, disintegrated into nothing but a small pile of ash on the ground. Dean stared, transfixed, even long after it was over and he was left surrounded in darkness, the ground and walls still cold and damp and his wrists still burning from the tight rope wrapped around them.

_Holy shit…what just happened?_ he thought worriedly, looking around as though for someone to attack him or something. Surely something else was there, right? Why else would that wendigo just burst into flames like that? Someone had to have done it, and he sure as hell hadn't. Feeling dizzy from the blood-loss, he tugged at the ropes, ignoring the way they tore into his skin. Blood ran down his arms from his wrists but he didn't care, just kept tugging and twisting, desperate to get loose. He was about to pass out, that was what it felt like, and he needed to be free when it happened.

Finally, thank God, his wrists slid free of the ropes and he promptly toppled to the ground in a boneless heap, panting heavily as pain radiated through him. Next to him lay the pile of ash. In the corner of the room lay his forgotten flamethrower, which the wendigo must have put over there when it had strung him up like he had been. He didn't know, didn't care, was just worried that the thing had caught fire as it had. He was also worried about the blood loss.

Because everything was dimming around him and it was all he could do to stay awake.

"This way," a familiar voice suddenly said, and he could hear footsteps approaching him. There was a pause and then suddenly someone was kneeling next to his head, pressing a hand over the large wound on his side, which in turn only made the pain worse.

F-Y-freaking-I.

Groaning, he tried to pull away from the hand but someone held him in place.

"Shit, he's bleeding bad," another voice said, this one gruff yet warm. It felt like home. Bobby, then. Had to be. Dean's vision was too blurred to see and so he let his eyes fall closed.

"He killed it?" the other person, probably Rob, asked incredulously, probably taking notice of the pile of ash.

"Guess so," Bobby said with a low whistle.

"Good hunter, that kid," Rob commented.

_Except I didn't do it…I didn't do anything,_ Dean wanted to tell them.

But he was too tired and he felt so dizzy…

And he was around family.

He welcomed the darkness with open arms.

* * *

Hmm...yeah...the poking in the eye thing...it's a saying me and a few of my friends have...it goes "Don't forget to poke 'em in the eye!" and there are a few other jokes that go along with that, haha, so yeah. Anyway, thanks again for reading, and please continue to review! I live off of reviews! Just one more chapter left, so hopefully I will have that up soon ;) Thank you to everyone who has been following this story. I really appreciate it.

~Muffy the Dough Slayer~


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